


A Certain Kind a' Action

by constructedmadness (dragonsquill)



Series: A Series of Missions, McKirk Style [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Episode Related, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, a piece of the action, plot what plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/constructedmadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim always loves costume missions, but Bones isn't so sure; at least until the planet with the twenties gangsters, and Jim in a pinstripe suit, and well.  </p><p>....No one could keep his hands to himself, much less Leonard McCoy.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>An AOS style moment in the TOS episode "A Piece of the Action," with gratuitous love and sex.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Certain Kind a' Action

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceCrazyArtist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCrazyArtist/gifts).



> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)

Living aboard the _USS Enterprise_ acclimated one to the bizarre and unexpected. Any given day on the Federation’s flagship could be mind-numbingly boring (So. Much. Paperwork.) or completely nonsensical (a la mind-altering plants leading to grinning Vulcan first officers hanging upside down from trees; these are the things nightmares are made of). As Chief Medical Officer under a captain who thought of regulations more as guidelines, Leonard McCoy had his share of boring and bizarre days, with surprisingly little in-between. 

Sometimes, Leonard sat around idly dreaming of a nice, quiet office in Atlanta, never worrying about engineers setting themselves on fire or captains who liked to stand between sharp, pointy things and the _Enterprise_ ’s crew. He’d do a couple of surgeries a day and leave his assistant to finish the resulting paperwork while he enjoyed a glass of bourbon which could be easily replaced if he ran out. No away missions, no engineers, no heroic captains giving him heart palpitations. 

Well, sometimes he imagined the heroic captain in his Dr. Leonard McCoy, Lazy Neurosurgeon fantasies; usually when he and the said captain had been so busy that they only shared a bed for a couple of hours a night, and were too tired to do anything other than sleep. Jim was not very captainy in those daydreams, however, unless it was the set up for some pretty ridiculous porn.

Other days, Leonard admitted to himself that he loved his job, no matter how ridiculous it got. Today, for example, Leonard spent a number of hours holding off a group of gangsters with a Tommy gun. Luckily, the gangsters had no idea that Leonard had no intention of shooting anyone; he’d just need to put them back together later, and projectile weapons made a mess of internal organs. _I should really find this situation more unbelievable,_ he mused silently as he adjusted the weapon. Just to add to the insanity of his situation, he was currently standing on top of a pool table for a better view of the boss, a couple of flunkies in longjohns, and the requisite floozy. _But somehow, finding myself on a world based entirely on a book about 1920’s gangsters seems almost reasonable._

Oxmyx was talking again. “You let us outta here,” the boss promised, “and I can make it worth your while.”

“So you’ve said,” Leonard pointed out, “several times. What makes you think I’m changing my mind this time around?” He’d almost said _changin’ my tune_ , pure evidence that he spent far too much time in the presence of Jim Kirk. 

“Every man has a price,” Oxmyx smiled up at him in a fashion Leonard assumed was meant to be honest. He obviously wanted Leonard’s full attention, but he wasn’t going to get it; McCoy would be a piss-poor doctor indeed if he couldn’t keep his focus on more than one thing – or thug – at a time. “What’d your captain call you? Bones?” He grinned. “Man built like you – must be…what? Muscle? Hitman? You’re maybe pretty enough for a conman, but you’re a little big. You send a few people to their graves, Bones?”

That nickname caused more trouble than it as worth. “The name’s McCoy.” He decided not to illuminate the gangster with the news that he was being held at bay by a doctor rather than a hit man. The Iotians were a bit smaller than modern humans, the men averaging out at about 5’8”. At 6’1”, Leonard cut a fairly imposing figure, which was what landed him in this mess in the first place.

 _“Listen, I’m going to take Spock and get my hands on Krako. You stay here and guard Oxmyx.”_

_“Guard – really, Jim? I’m your best option here?” Leonard felt his eyebrow go up, but it did nothing to stop the manic gleam in Jim’s eyes. “What’s your excuse going to be for the hobgoblin’s ears?”_

_Jim waved a hand dismissively. “Fedoras, Bones. We’re going in disguise. I need someone here I can trust, and I don’t want to bring down more people unless I have to.” He reached out and patted Leonard’s arm. “You won’t have to shoot anybody. Just keep them together and make sure you’re in a position to see all of them. I need them alive anyway.”_

_“Glad to hear it.” Sarcasm was absolutely dripping from Leonard’s voice now. “Thank you for keeping my Hippocratic Oath in mind while you leave me here doing the job I am absolutely least qualified for.”_

_Jim grinned at him, unrepentant. “Come on, Bones! You think I’d take a chance on this caper by givin’ the security job to anybody but my best muscle?”_

_Leonard rubbed at his temple. “Good lord, Jim. Don’t talk like that.”_

_“Gotta get in character, Bones.” Jim’s vowels were starting to sprawl as his voice shifted to a more nasal register. “Besides, you look the part.” Leonard snarled at him, and Jim’s grin, amazingly enough, spread. Jim took endless delight in the fact that Leonard’s build – tall, broad-shouldered – tended to make various humanoid species overestimate his ability to snap people like a twig._

_“I hate this job,” Bones groused, somewhat half-heartedly, as Jim handed him the heavy machine gun._

_“Yeah,” Jim said breezily, “but you love me.”_

_Dammit. Brat had him pinned. Again._

Bones knew enough about the human body to make the adjustments necessary so his hands and wrists didn’t tire too much, but his right shoulder was just about tired of holding a gun at the ready. 

“I’ve got money,” Oxmyx continued, as if it wasn’t obvious from their surroundings. “I’ve got power.” Oxmyx’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve got women.” His mouth curved into a smile. “You want women, Bones?”

“McCoy. And no thanks. I’m married.” Shame he and Jim didn’t wear wedding rings – too much of a pain, especially in Leonard’s line of work. The symbolism probably wouldn’t have been lost here. One of the longjohned toughs was wearing a traditional gold band. He supposed marriage – at least some bastardized form of it – was in The Book. 

Oxmyx snorted. “Come on, McCoy. We’re men o’ the world.” He said “world” like a cartoon rabbit. “One wife ain’t always enough for men like us.” The floozy shot him a dirty look. Apparently not everyone was on board with free love in this society, no matter what The Book said. “You let me go, join my team, and I’ll make sure you get all the women you like.” His smile turned nasty. “You ought’a consider it, McCoy. You probably don’t have much time until Krako sends that boss a’ yours back over here in a blotter!”

Leonard faltered, just a bit, and then silently cursed when Oxmyx’s eyes followed the slight twitch in the gun. It had been two hours, and no word for one of them. Jim didn’t generally miss check-ins like that. “He’s-“

“Wrong again, Oxmyx!” came that familiar voice – albeit with an obnoxious gangsters undertone – and Jim breezed in with Spock on his heels. 

In retrospect, Leonard recalled that there was a lot of talking and some serious abuse of the Prime Directive via beaming. There was loads of gunfire and a blast of phaser-on-stun from an extremely confused Scotty (“Put them on . . . ice? Captain?”). There was Jim putting on the show of his life and negotiating a cut of the planet’s profits. It was Jim at his best, being completely outrageous and pulling it off with ridiculous style.

Leonard, however, was only tangentially aware of all this, because while he had been staring at two flunkies in their underwear for two hours, and therefore knew intellectually that Jim had been strolling around Ionia in a pinstriped suit and fedora, he had not actually _seen_ Jim all gangstered out. 

Once he did, a large number of higher brain functions effectively shut down.

Jim was wearing a dark blue pinstripe, some sort of sleek cut Leonard didn’t know the name for, and the hat tilted rakishly over one stunningly blue eye. Leonard felt he was holding it together pretty well until Jim slid the coat off and stood there in a perfectly tailored vest that outlined his torso in exactly the right way. There suddenly seemed to be something…off…about the regulation fit of Leonard’s uniform slacks.

This was not the best time to discover that he had an unexpected kink for 20’s style vests. 

Jim wrapped it all up, of course. Leonard would get the details on how later, when Jim took the time to explain to Scotty why he kept speaking in a bizarre code the engineer didn’t understand. It had to do with uniting the mob bosses under one boss, and paying the Federation a cut. Spock seemed to approve and – in a move that was so disturbing it almost killed Leonard’s traitorous libido – even told the bosses to “hush up and listen up, see.” Then, of course, Jim leaned right in to one of the bosses who was giving him lip and basically just _charismaed_ him into submission, and Leonard was right back where he’d started, walking very cautiously. 

“All right, Bones!” Jim finally said, slapping Leonard cheerfully on the shoulder and then letting his hand linger. “Looks like everything’s set up here.” He cut his eyes to Leonard and Leonard knew in that instant that he was utterly caught out. “Guess we can settle in for the night.” 

Leonard scowled. “Settle in?” he demanded.

Jim grinned in a way that made Leonard want to punch him or kiss him. Possibly both, simultaneously, if he could pull it off. “Well, sure, we gotta keep an eye on everyone overnight, yeah? Make sure nobody tries to pull nothin’.”

Leonard hoped his glare was enough to at least give Jim some sense of decency. Of course it wasn’t.

“That’s idiotic.”

“Just sound business, babe. Listen, we’ve got a room just down the street. Swanky hotel, supposed to have great mattresses. You’ll sleep like the fishes.” He winked.

Leonard was dimly certain that fishes had something to do with dying, but he decided a put-upon sigh was all the response he could be bothered with.

\-----

Leonard had Jim pinned against the floral wallpaper the moment the lock clicked into place.

“Something I should know, Bones?” Jim asked, all cocksure swagger as he arched away from the wall and against Leonard’s body. 

Leonard growled at him. “You’re a _tease_!”

“That’s not news.” Cheekily.

“And a brat.”

“Also not news.”

Leonard deftly unbuckled Jim’s belt with one hand. Being a doctor – and ambidextrous – often came in handy in the bedroom. “And you look…it should be…that suit-!”

He glared at it. His very best Terrify the Engineering Peons glare.

The suit should have gone up in flames from the force of his ire alone, but of course it didn’t.

Jim smile at him, slow and satisfied, and damn it all if his voice didn’t go down to a _purr_. “You like this suit, Bones?”

“Shut up.” Leonard tossed the belt and shoved off the well-tailored suit coat with care – he had plans to keep that thing and have a dozen made like it to toss on Jim when he needed to look like an adult.

“You seem in an awful big hurry to get it off.” Jim shifted his hips away from the wall, simultaneously letting the jacket fall and conveniently shifting his legs so Leonard could strip off the pinstriped pants as well. 

It was almost a shame, really. They’d looked _fantastic_ on Jim’s ass.

The shirt went next, fussy buttons one, two, and three before Leonard looked Jim in the eye and said, “You talk too much, kid,” before tugging hard and popping the rest of them right off.

Jim’s eyes went wide and he groaned, down in his chest.

Damn straight.

“Turn around.”

“Turn around?”

Leonard leaned in, just that little bit down, kissing Jim like Jim loved it best – slow and deep and thorough, until his captain’s hips were moving against his and Jim’s hands were tangled in his uniform shirt. Leonard let up slowly, with a final suck and bite of that gorgeous bottom lip. “Turn around.”

Jim did, looking a mite dazed.

Good.

Leonard pulled the dress shirt over Jim’s shoulders, down his arms – enjoying the slow reveal of skin, pressing a kiss and a nibble to one shoulder, his neck, the top of his spine – sliding the cloth down until it tangled around his wrists.

“Bones,” a pretty moan, but Leonard just grinned and twisted the cloth. “What’re you-”

Leonard knew what he was doing: knew how to make sure there was no problem with blood flow, knew how to twist them so Jim could feel trapped if he wanted, but escape immediately if he didn’t. He curled his hand in the cloth, holding it in place, trapping Jim’s hands.

The noise Jim made was positively pornographic. And right here against the door-

Leonard hoped every one of their pain in the ass hosts was getting an earful.

There was lube in Leonard’s bag – of course, never knew when there might be a medical need for it, or when you might want to pin your husband to a wall and push in two fingers and listen to him make that wonderful, low, growling sound that meant he wanted it hard and fast and dirty. 

Leonard leaned in and nipped Jim’s right ear, flicking his tongue around the curve. “You had fun playing a bad boy today.”

“Mmmm.” Three fingers, and Jim was panting, forehead pressed to the wall and his hands tangling in the shirt around his wrists, holding them as surely as Leonard was. “Yeah.” There was a grin in his voice, one of the smug ones, “Pretty sure this qualifies too.”

“Bad taste to have sex against the wall?” Leonard let go long enough to shove at his own pants, slide his erection free, wrap a slick hand around it and stroke. 

“Right by the door? Yes.” Jim pushed up a little, on his toes. “C’mon Bones.” His voice twisted, took on the ridiculous drawl he’d used all day. “Give it to me.”

“….That’s not even slightly sexy,” Leonard muttered, but it wasn’t true. Everything about Jim leaning forward, spreading his legs, his arms tangled behind him, that beautiful ass, even that ridiculous voice – everything about it was gorgeous.

Leonard pushed into that willing body on one steady thrust.

Jim was tight and hot and _loud_ , moaning encouragement, his hips rolling against Leonard’s, keeping him close when he tried to pull away. There’d been a time when Jim bit his lip until it was swollen and red to stay silent, not ashamed by wanting _sex_ but ashamed by wanting _love_ but now-

Now Jim groaned a steady rhythm of Leonard’s name – _Bones Bones Bones yeah fuck yes_ \- writhed and shoved and took everything he wanted with enthusiasm.

Leonard caught his hands, pulled him away from the wall, thrust up. The angle was strange, but he knew the human body, knew Jim’s body, and the sound Jim made was almost a whimper. 

“I love you,” Leonard murmured, because he did, his wild, playful captain who took on gangsters and put his first officer in twenties-style suits for the pure amusement of it, who left his CMO as a guard and traipsed around an alien Chicago to put the Federation’s former mistakes to rights. 

Jim curved his back, looked over his shoulder. He was flushed and grinning, his lips parting with a flash of teeth. “I know.”

They came almost together – so close, Leonard following the jerking of Jim’s hips and the hitches in his breath – Leonard’s mouth against Jim’s shoulder, Jim’s voice a shout of exultation and shameless approval as he spilled over Leonard’s fingers.

Jim slumped back against him as Leonard slipped free, trusting Leonard to wrap his arms around him and support him, as of course he did. “Not bad, babe,” Jim drawled. “Remind me ta drop ya a tenner.”

Leonard slapped him on the right butt cheek, because he deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-indulgent gift for my friend Cass's birthday, based on one of our favorite TOS episodes. <3


End file.
